


We Were not Born the Enemy

by papercloudx



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papercloudx/pseuds/papercloudx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafe didn’t pay attention to what his history teacher was saying. He knew the story inside out, anyway: Atomic war. Destruction of the human race. Formation of splinter groups. Only The Party managed to build something that resembled civilization. Only The New Fallout ensures our survival. Most people seemed to think that all it took to rewrite history was repeating the new version often enough, and they accepted their fate without hesitation. But Rafe… Rafe kept wondering if this was really what he wanted from his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Second Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this project planned for a while, but I didn’t really get around to type down what I thought of until now. The prologue is a lot of world-building and explanation of why Rafe eventually does what he does, and what leads to the rest of the story. This AU is based on Crown the Empire’s second album, and on a choice-driven game a friend of mine wrote—I tweaked the world quite a bit, but I do want to mention Kathleen here as the one who inspired me to write this story <3 The opening passage is from CTE’S Call to Arms. No knowledge of the album is needed to understand the story, and it’s not a song fic, though I will sometimes incorporate some lines (mainly for the naming of buildings and world building stuff!)

“You have all been a consequence of the disease known as freedom, and now it is time to take that freedom away! As of today, you will be stripped of your identity, and anything you hold dear in life, for it is your individuality that has led to your destruction.”

Rafe Adler repeated the morning credo with a machine-like expression. The message controlled more than just his school life; The Party, leaders of his hometown, made sure everyone followed it at any time. Rafe’s path of life had been predetermined for him long before he was born, the same as his parents’ path of life, and probably his grand-parents’ as well. No one remembered exactly when The Party took over the city, but its rule had _kept the peace_ , or so they said.

That didn’t mean Rafe believed them, however.

Even though he was only seventeen years old and had yet to take part in Party politics, he was already well-respected by his teachers and fellow students. His parents were merchants who controlled most of the food supply chain, and it was known that he would take over the business one day. Being on his good side meant surviving for the rest of the citizens.

Rafe didn’t pay attention to what his history teacher was saying. He knew the story inside out, anyway: _Atomic war. Destruction of the human race. Formation of splinter groups. Only The Party managed to build something that resembled civilization. Only The New Fallout ensures our survival._ Most people seemed to think that all it took to rewrite history was repeating the new version often enough, and they accepted their fate without hesitation. But Rafe… Rafe kept wondering if this was really what he wanted from his life. Did he really want to be respected only because people feared that he would take their food away? What good were riches and luxury that was only given to you, that you didn’t earn yourself? He saw what his role as merchant did to his father every day. Rafe considered his father to be lazy and a know-it-all. He rested on what someone else once gained for him and the indoctrination work from The Party. There was nothing real about him. Even his parents’ marriage had been arranged long before they were even born. There was no choice in this life.

Rafe sighed as he wrote down the names and dates of “important people” his teacher presented to the class. He couldn’t speak about his thoughts to anyone—not even his mother, whom he trusted more than anyone else in this goddamned city. He knew that thoughts like his were considered treason, and that he would _disappear_ if he ever uttered them. The Party had their ways of controlling the people of The New Fallout—technology that remained of a world long forgotten and was forbidden to anyone who could not call themselves a “leader”.

Really, was there anything worth living for in this city?

 

At the end of the school day, Rafe packed his bags and started his way home alone. Friendships with someone whose role wasn’t in the same class as yours were frowned upon by The Party, and could end in strange, unexplainable accidents—and as the only merchant in his class, that meant Rafe wasn’t allowed to get close to his fellow students. Life in The New Fallout was lonely.

That did, however, not stop Rafe from strolling through the market in the lower classes’ city district. He loved watching the hustle and bustle of people; he loved the haggling over fruits and bread, the way the voices all blended in until they made up one mass that was so _human_ , so different from everything in the merchants’ district. It was the one place in the lower classes’ district he could visit as most of the stalls sold on products they had previously obtained from his parents, and he could easily defend himself by saying he was only watching over his parents’ goods, making sure the traders all kept in their respective roles. _In a way_ , he thought, _the lower classes have it easier than we do—they can communicate with each other without having to fear anyone._ Even though he understood that surviving in the lower classes’ district of The New Fallout was hard, he thought at least it gave the people here a purpose in life. They had to work for their food, for everything. It almost seemed a better fate to him than having everything he could possibly wish for laid out for him on a silver platter.

He saw people display their batch that marked them as “trusted traders of Adler goods”, a blue and silver striped hexagon. His father made a big deal about handing them out, and usually, there would be a small ceremony under the eyes of the Forces of the New Fallout when new traders from the lower classes were chosen. In Rafe’s eyes, the batch really just was a sign that the traders had accepted their lower social positions and the fact that the Adlers—representatives of The Party—controlled their lives. Were the traders cowards for not fighting against The Party and the imposed order, or brave because they managed to survive in the lower class district? Were they simply keeping the peace by sticking to their assigned roles? He couldn’t make up his mind about it, couldn’t untangle Party propaganda from his own opinions sometimes.

_And you shouldn’t. Keep to yourself. Let the lower classes be what they are. You’ll have to hand out the batches yourself one day if you don’t want to disappear._

No personality. No freedom. Life in the New Fallout was monotonous, predetermined. Giving yourself up to keep the peace.

 

Suddenly, Rafe heard the shriek of spinning wheels, the roar of an engine that was being tortured—and a sharp sound as an armoured truck stopped a few metres in front of him. Two figures dressed in riot gear jumped from the back of the truck; both of them a lot taller than Rafe, but he would guess around his age, judging from the lack of wrinkles around their eyes. He couldn’t see the rest of their faces as they hid them behind a bandana painted with the smile of a skull. The taller of the two waved a red flag with a white crown in a cog— _The Resistance_.

“We’re not here to hurt you!,” the young man holding the flag shouted, “We’re here to show you a new way of life!”

Armed Forces of the New Fallout were scarce on the lower classes’ market, and had the rebels decided to shoot everyone in sight, they could easily have done so. However, the Resistance movement rarely targeted lower class citizens, usually focusing on attacks on merchants and suspected Party members. This display was unusual, and Rafe was intrigued as to what the two young Runaways had planned, but he kept himself to the back of the crowd, hoping not to be seen by a Party member.

While people shoved past him left and right, trying to get a better look of the spectacle, the two Runaways started handing out food—mostly vegetables, but Rafe also saw some salt and meat. The young men just tossed the food into the crowd, trusting that the lower class citizens would catch what they could.

The smaller one of the two Runaways suddenly jumped in front of the crowd and held up one of the blue and silver striped hexagon batches. “See where we got this from? It’s not right that one family should control how much food you get! It’s not right that they are born into luxury, while we crawl on the streets, hoping to survive the next day! They were not born to be better than we are! It’s our reluctance to do something against this that secures their control!” The short speech might not have been well worded, but it certainly had an effect on the on-looking crowd. The people looked at each other, and hushed whispers reached Rafe’s ears: “They’re right.” “Who are these Adlers anyway? What have they ever done for us?” “I might not be a good human, but my children are. Why do they have to live like this?”

_I probably should feel angry_ , Rafe thought, but for some reason, he remained calm. He did have similar thoughts to the ones voiced right now, after all. However, one thing was clear: The Runaways managed to rile up the crowd, and the anger started to rise up until it hung in the air as a sizzling noise; an electric spark, jumping from person to person, charging every single on-looker—and Rafe did not want to be there when that anger discharged. He took one last look at the two Runaways who were still shouting, trying to remember as much of their faces as possible, before he turned around and left the market.

On his way home, one thought kept repeating in his mind over and over again, until it drowned out every other sensation:

_“Who are these Adlers anyway? What have they ever done for us?”_

And Rafe realized: He wanted to be known, and he wanted to change the city. He wasn’t exactly intending to give up his position in the grand scheme of things; but he would earn it, show the world what he was made of and why he deserved to be on top.

He would join the Resistance.


	2. A Call to Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafe tries to find the Resistance. Instead, the Resistance finds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who’s back! I’m so sorry that it took me forever to update this. With moving back to Germany and my internship, I just didn’t manage to continue. I fear the updating process will still be slow, but I hope it won’t take as long as last time!

“That was a good one, little brother. You’ve done well.” With a satisfied smirk and an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Sam patted his brother Nathan on the back. 

“And you’re sure you didn’t notice that one guy standing in the back? Sam, he didn’t look like one of the lower class citizens. If the Party—“

“Nathan. How long have we been doing this, huh? The Party knows about us anyway. They’ve been searching for us as long as I can think. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Nathan looked down on the ground and run a hand through his hair. A bit of sand fell to the ground; remnants of their hasty retreat from the market place. Even with patrols being scarce in the lower district, it wouldn’t have taken the FNF much longer to arrive.

“I just—look Sam, I know we’re doing the right thing. I just don’t want Elena to get tangled up in this.”

Sam laughed. “And you don’t think she already is? Give your lady some credit. She _wants_ to be part of this, even if she didn’t go through her initiation yet.”

Nathan opened his mouth to disagree, but Victor Sullivan—their foster father, mentor, and driver of the Resistance—cut him off. “He’s right, kid. She’s a part of this.” Sully looked impressive in his riot gear and with his cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth—it was easy to see where Sam got the habit from. There was an authority in his words Nate couldn’t object to, even though he desperately wanted to.

With all the defiance he could muster, Nate turned his back to his brother and mentor and started to peel off his riot gear. He put everything down on the armour table harder than he needed to, just to show exactly how pissed off he was. _Leave Elena out of it!_ , he wanted to scream. _She’s only 15! She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into!_ Yet a part of him knew that he was one to talk—he was only 16 years old himself, and he’d been doing this for most of his life. Sam and Sully tried to keep him in the back, only taking him to missions they deemed less dangerous, but he was slowly but surely fighting his way forward. Elena knew about this, and she was the one who had given them the tip about where to find the Adler convoy. She had given them information about what they thought in schools, about new Party developments, she spied on people in hallways. Even if she wasn’t officially a Runaway, she certainly acted like one. Nate knew all this, but still, he wanted to protect her. 

“Would you look at that! My two favourite boys are back in town. How’d it go, mates?” Harry Flynn, Sam’s best friend and fighting companion, strolled into the garage. There was a confidence in the older man’s walk that Nate could only admire. Harry was the living image of a Runaway: a real delinquent, with his weapons strapped to his legs at all times, his low-cut shirts and tattoos, and a temper that was—maybe not feared, but certainly respected, even by Sully. Harry and Sam greeted each other with their trademark handshake—“ridiculous,” Nate would say, though he was secretly jealous they didn’t include him—and Harry stole the still unlit cigarette from Sam’s mouth quicker than Nate could process. 

“I was still planning to smoke that, y’know.”

“Yeah yeah. Just get yersel’ another one, aye?” And with that, Harry lit the cigarette and blew the smoke in Sam’s face. “So? Any news?”

“Nah, nothing special. All went as planned—the crowd started to think about the Adlers. You could feel the anger. Nathan gave a little speech, a real nice one, you would’ve liked it.” Sam, who had finally finished removing his riot gear, took another cigarette from his pack and motioned to Harry to give him the lighter. Nate shook his head. “I told you, that one guy looked at us. He left when the crowd started talking about the Adlers. He looked way to wealthy to be from the lower classes!” 

“What’s he look like, mate?” 

“Uh… his hair was slicked back, he was a little smaller than us I guess, brown hair, I couldn’t make out much—I was busy giving a speech, as Sam pointed out.”

“Hm.” Harry looked pensive for a moment. “Chloe told me about the young Adler. She was following him around for a while, she doesn’t think he noticed her, but apparently, he sometimes strolls through the market. Just to look, apparently, she couldn’t make out what his motives where. But he kinda fits your description.”

“A lot of people would fit Nate’s description. Look kiddos, I don’t have time all day. Let’s get inside and talk this over with a beer in hands, shall we?” Sully had changed into one of his shirts with a floral pattern—he insisted they were worn by gentlemen before the war, and nobody could convince him to put on something a little less ugly—and was already on his way to leave the garage. Sam and Harry seemed to have lost all interest in the subject at hand when they heard the word ‘beer’, and Nate was left alone to wonder if there was a connection between the Adlers and the guy he saw on the market place.

 

It was almost impossible to find the Resistance.

Rafe knew he couldn’t just openly ask around—not if he valued his life. He frequently visited the market place in hopes of hearing more about them, but it was as if the two Runaways had never appeared. No one talked about them. He couldn’t make out any suspicious looking people, either. Frankly, he didn’t know what to do.

He had thought about tipping someone, but if he took a large amount of his parents’ money, surely it wouldn’t go unnoticed. He hoped the Runaways would come back to distribute more food, but again, he had no luck. It would have been stupid of them to come back, anyway—surely, the FNF would be prepared for them this time, even if they didn’t usually patrol the lower classes’ market place.

He sat alone during school break, as he always did. While he pondered on other strategies to draw out the Resistance, he noticed two girls talking to each other—he knew one of them as Elena, one of his class mates, but he had never seen the other one before. With her jet black hair, tight clothes and gorgeous features, he was sure he would have noticed her before. Elena and the mysterious girl were talking in hushed voices—he couldn’t hear them, but he could tell from their expressions that they were stressed. Elena sometimes looked around nervously as if she wanted to make sure nobody was listening in, but the other girl gestured as if to say “Don’t be so obvious!” 

It wouldn’t get more suspicious than that.

Rafe tried to look as casual as possible when he made his way over to them. He wasn’t allowed to talk to them, but he’d have to take his chances. If all went well, he would be out of the Party’s sight soon, anyway. If not… well, he’d have to figure it out from there.

When he reached the two, he cleared his throat to get their attention. “I am, uh. I am looking for someone.”

The new girl smirked at him. “I am sure you are, sweetheart. And how can we help?” Elena’s shocked gaze wandered between Rafe and her friend (or not-friend, Rafe couldn’t tell what their relationship was just yet). 

“You look as if you might know where to find them.”

“We might, we might not.”

“Chloe! Shut up—“

“Shh darling, let me handle this.”

“So. Do you know where to find them or not?”

“Why would we tell you, Rafe Adler?”

“So you know who I am.”

“Well, everyone knows who you are. Merchant class. How come you are talking to low-lives like us?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Well, I will gladly repeat myself. Why should we tell you?”

During their conversation, Elena became more and more nervous. Rafe knew he was onto something.

“I agree with you. With what the two said on the market place the other day, I mean. I don’t think I’m born to be more than you are. I want to earn my place in this society.”

Chloe stared at him for a moment. He felt as if her gaze could look straight into his thoughts, into his very soul. Then he had to chuckle at himself—as if. She was just trying to scare him, to see if he would give her any sign of his intentions. 

“Come to the market place tonight. Alone. We’ll pick you up.” With that, Chloe got up and left Rafe and a stunned Elena behind.

 

“I told you. I fucking told you I saw someone!”

“Relax, Nate. I don’t think he wants to expose us. He seemed… genuine.”

Nate stared at Chloe, almost throwing the beer bottle he held in hands when she broke the news at her. “I can’t believe you met Elena during school break! Do you know how much danger she’ll be in?”

“Ooh, I see.” Chloe threw her hands in the air. “This is about your princess, not the Resistance.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Sam said, his voice firm. “I know there’s still some tension between you two—“

“Mate.”

“Shut up for once, Harry. You better work through this. We have more pressing matters at hand. You told Rafe _Adler_ we’d pick him up? What got into you?”

Chloe shrugged her shoulders. “As I said, he seemed sincere. Guys, just imagine how useful he could be! He could get into all places that we have been trying to get into for ages now!”

“Or,” Harry looked at his girlfriend with raised eyebrows, “Or he could lead them straight to us.”

“Well then just make his initiation extra hard! Give him something that he wouldn’t do if he wasn’t on our side.”

Sam buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply. “Chloe, if we do that, then he won’t exactly be able to get us into _places_ , will he?” 

“He must know something. He _must_.” Chloe wasn’t willing to back down. “We can always kidnap and torture him until he gives us information, if he shows up alone. If he doesn’t, we’ll just disappear, and I’ll keep low for a while. Let’s just see how it goes, okay?”

“Well, we have,“ Harry looked at his watch, “about two more hours to decide before we have to set off, _if_ we want to pick him up. What’s it going to be? I trust Chloe on this one.”

“Yeah, you always do,” Nate mumbled under his breath. “I say we pick him up anyway and keep him here with us for a while. I don’t want him to—“

“—tell anyone about Elena, yeah, we get it, pal.”

Sam slapped his best friend on the shoulder. “You’d do the same if it was Chloe. Don’t talk to my little brother like that.”

He looked into the round. Everyone stared back at him, waiting for his answer.

“I guess this is on me. I say we pick him up, see how it goes. I agree with Chloe, we can always… use him to get information. We’ll go together. Chloe, he’s seen you anyway, so I’d say you’re the one who talks to him. Put on your masks and gear, boys—it’s time to get us a new recruit, or fight the FNF. I’ll get Sully and the car.”

 

About two and a half hours later, Rafe found himself in a heavily armoured car, his arms tied on his back and a blindfold covering his eyes. “Just a safety measure, pal, no hard feelings, yeah?,” one of the guys had told him. 

_What have you gotten yourself into, Rafe?_


End file.
